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his dog. That should tell you what kind of guy he is. For heaven’s sake, he named his dog ‘Jacko.’ What kind of stupid name is that?”
    â€œAre you seriously suggesting that what he named his dog somehow makes a statement about the quality of his sperm?”
    â€œSomebody must think it’s important. Why would they list it?”
    Obviously, this wasn’t going to be resolved in one morning. I downloaded the list to consider later. Iwasn’t sure what we’d do after we picked one. It wasn’t as if we could really use the turkey baster, could we?
    We let the whole idea die down a bit. Neither of us wanted to push the other into something we weren’t ready for. Besides, I had more questions than I had answers. The issue didn’t come up again until a few months later when I went in for my annual checkup. Nothing special. Go in. Get naked. Put on a stupid paper robe. Weigh-in. Cold stethoscope. Check the blood pressure. Then, the always popular, “Slide down please, and put your feet in the stirrups.” I had been to this doctor several times. I felt pretty comfortable with her, so after I finished counting thirty or so tiles on the ceiling, I asked, “If I wanted to have a baby, how would I go about it?”
    My doctor peered over the sheet draped across my legs. She raised an eyebrow and went back to work.
    â€œWell, you see the sperm travels up—” she started.
    â€œVery funny. Really, my partner and I have been talking about it. We think we’ve found a donor. I don’t know where to go from here. Is it something you do?”
    â€œEverything looks fine. You can get dressed,” she said, getting up from her stool. “You’ll want to talk with someone at a fertilization clinic. I could provideyou with a few names.”
    I took her list. It didn’t really help. What would I say to them? How would I start this whole process? Ellen and I talked about it that night. She said I should call and tell them what I wanted. That’s what they were there for, right? After looking over the various names, we decided to go with the clinic associated with my doctor’s hospital. I called the next day.
    â€œHi. Um, I would like to talk to someone about artificial insemination.”
    â€œYes, we can help with that. You’ll need to set up an appointment. You’re in luck, too. We just had a cancellation. Can you come in on Friday?”
    I scheduled the appointment. The next few days were nerve-wracking. I wasn’t sure how I would explain the situation. It’s not that I’m overly closeted, but I don’t usually announce to total strangers how I live my life. In this situation, however, it looked as if I would have to do just that. Despite the fact that Ellen and I were in this together, I decided to go to the first visit on my own. Ellen dropped me off at the clinic on Friday morning.
    The waiting room was filled with women, a couple of men, and a few kids. It was bright and cheery. I went to the counter. The nurse passed me a clipboard.There were several forms to fill out. Of course, I got stuck on the first line that asked for my spouse’s name. Bravely, I wrote Ellen’s name. I felt a little guilty that I wished her name were more gender-neutral. I finished up the forms and handed them back to the nurse. About thirty minutes later, I was called into the doctor’s office.
    She was about my age with long hair pulled back from her face by a headband. Her name was embroidered on the white coat. For some reason, this reminded me that I had to take my car in to get its oil changed.
    â€œAubrie, what brings you to our clinic?” she inquired.
    I took a deep breath and started to explain my situation to her. She listened well and asked a few questions. She let me know that because the clinic was part of a Catholic hospital, I wouldn’t be able to use their sperm bank, but I could certainly have the sperm